The sky was turning pale when Emilia stepped into the courtyard. Smoke still hung in the air from the night’s fire. The gates were half-broken, the ground covered with ashes and wet mud.Soldiers stood in rows, waiting for orders. Their faces were tired, their eyes dark from sleepless nights. Dante stood in front of them, his coat black, his expression harder than stone.Emilia froze when she saw him.He looked different now—colder, distant, and worn. His shirt was still stained with soot from the fire. Even from far away, she could feel the anger rolling off him.“Burn their supply lines,” Dante ordered, his deep voice echoing through the courtyard. “I want every man ready before sundown. The Valenti name will vanish by dawn.”The soldiers nodded quickly, no one daring to look at him for too long.Emilia took a shaky breath and stepped forward. “Dante…”His head turned slightly, his eyes meeting hers. The courtyard went quiet. Everyone stopped moving, waiting for what would happen ne
The morning air reeked of smoke.Emilia pressed her handkerchief to her nose as the carriage jolted down the narrow street. Outside, the world was a skeleton of itself. Charred beams leaned like broken ribs, smoke still curling from the ashes of what had once been shops and homes. Children clung to their mothers in doorways, their eyes wide and hollow as Dante’s soldiers marched past.Dante rode at the head of the column, astride a black horse that seemed carved from the same darkness as its master. His coat billowed behind him, streaked with soot and blood from the night before. He didn’t glance back at Emilia’s carriage. He didn’t need to. His presence filled every street, every silence.The soldiers dragged men from their homes, rough hands clutching collars and arms, pulling them into the cold morning light. Some were old, stooped by years. Others were hardly more than boys.“These,” Dante said, his voice carrying over the cobblestones, “are the ones who whispered Valenti loyalty
Dawn broke blood-red across the courtyard.The gates loomed high, iron teeth glinting under the rising sun. Torches still smoked from the night, casting streaks of soot across the stone. Soldiers stood in tight ranks, boots heavy on the ground, rifles at their sides. No one spoke. No one dared.Emilia stood above them, on the balcony just outside her chamber. Two guards flanked her, but she hardly noticed them. Her gaze was locked on the scene below.At the center of the courtyard knelt a man. His hands were bound behind his back, his knees pressed into the cold stone. He wore the black jacket of Dante’s guard — a man sworn to loyalty. But his face was pale, drenched in sweat, his eyes darting toward the crowd that surrounded him.“Don’t let them do this,” he begged, his voice carrying thinly across the courtyard. “I’ve served you for years. I’ve killed for you. I’ve bled for this house!”His words shattered the stillness like glass. But no one moved.Dante stepped forward.He was dre
The great hall reeked of smoke and steel.Dawn light bled pale through the tall windows, slicing across the long table where maps and ledgers lay scattered. Dante still bore the night’s violence on his skin. Emilia noticed the faint crimson stains on his cuffs and the dark shadows under his eyes. He stood at the head of the room, broad-shouldered and unyielding, every inch the Don.And yet, the men before him did not cheer.They had been summoned at first light: captains, lieutenants, foot soldiers. A hundred pairs of boots thudded across the stone as they took their places, forming ranks before the throne-like chair. Their heads bowed low, but the air hummed with something unspoken. Not triumph. Not loyalty.Fear.Emilia stood near the wall, flanked by two guards. Her palms were cold, though the torches hissed hot above her head. She had expected jeers, as before. Instead, she found something worse: silence so heavy it pressed into her bones.Dante’s gaze swept the hall, black and sh
The clang of steel woke her.At first, Emilia thought it was another attack — that rivals had breached the gates again, that blades were crossing in the courtyard. But as she slipped from her bed and pressed her ear to the wall, she realized the sound was rhythmic, deliberate. One man, striking again and again, not a battle but a storm contained.The guards at her door shifted uneasily when she asked, but they didn’t stop her when she insisted. They followed at a distance as she trailed the sound through narrow corridors, down a flight of stone steps she had never taken before.The clangs grew sharper, louder. And then she found the door.It was ajar, light spilling through the crack. She pushed gently, and the heavy wood groaned as it opened.The air inside hit her first — thick with sweat, smoke, and the metallic tang of blood.Dante was in the center of the training hall. Alone.The room was cavernous, lined with racks of weapons, torches blazing along the walls. Dante stood shirtl
The courtyard reeked of iron and smoke.The gates that had been shattered during the last attack were only half-mended, their hinges sagging like broken bones. Black scorch marks marred the stone walls, scars from torches hurled in the night. Soldiers clustered in the yard, boots crunching on gravel. Their swords flashed in the thin winter light as they practised.For days, Emilia had been confined to her chamber. Today, Marcello had insisted she take air. Two guards flanked her closely, their hands never far from the hilts of their weapons. But their presence wasn’t for her protection — it was to make certain she could not vanish.The air tasted of ash. The rhythm of swords clashing and men grunting was usually background noise, but today it stopped when she stepped into the open.Dozens of heads turned.She felt the weight of their stares immediately. Some cold, some burning, some sharp with contempt. Whispers rippled through the ranks like a poisoned tide.“There she is…”“Coin of